


Wild things

by torres



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-19 08:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torres/pseuds/torres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daniel is a photographer looking for a muse, Fernando is a psychology student not easily impressed by his tricks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It takes two to whisper quietly

It all started on a pretty unremarkable day.

Middle of the second semester, Tuesday morning, Fernando Torres just finished his Communications class. Introduction to Speech Communication, if you cared to know. And what Fernando cared to know was why he even needed to take Communications when he didn’t need no fancy-pants public speaking skills for his Psychology degree anyway.

But, whatever. The more pressing dilemma now was that he had a majors class right after, and the School of Social Sciences was on the other end of the campus.

Tuesdays were always the trickiest part of Fernando’s schedule. By university rules, professors should give their students a short grace period to move from one classroom to another. Like all university rules, this wasn’t followed. This meant that Fernando had a 15-minute walk or a 10-minute jog or a 5-minute frantic, lung-busting run across school once a week.

Fernando hurried down the steps of the School of Humanities, bustling past lucky students who were on break, loitering around. He leaped down the last two steps, landing easily on his scuffed Nikes, and he had to smile at himself; he was making good time. Hopping down the sidewalk and looking down to check his watch, Fernando –

_BEEEEEP!_

Fernando screamed in shock as he scrambled backwards instinctively, fearful for his life. The jalopy was going so fast and he was crossing blindly that he almost got side-swept. So close, too close that the Spaniard felt the wind whip against his face as the vehicle passed. And came to a screeching halt just a few metres away.

The driver rolled down his windows and angrily shoved his aviators up to his hair so he could glare at Fernando squarely.

“Hey, girlie, watch where you’re going!”

Fernando’s jaw dropped. “Fuck off!” He yelled back.

The driver threw him one more dirty look before he flashed Fernando his middle finger, pulled his shades back down over his eyes and gunned his car. The jeep swiftly sprung to a start and in a matter of seconds, it disappeared around the corner, the revving of its engine left in its wake.

And that was that. The beginning.

*

The next Tuesday, Fernando was proud to say that he was able to cross the pedestrian lane safely and with no real incident. He even looked left and right, even though the driveway of the School of Humanities was a one-lane, one-way street. He also didn’t exhale until he was safe on the other side.

His Communications class let them out early today so he was in no real rush. He took the time to enjoy the morning breeze, the rare sun shining brightly in his eyes, and Fernando let himself smile easily as he cut through the parking lot.

Then, a voice broke into his thoughts with a sarcastic retort, “Well, hey, if it isn’t my favourite pedestrian.”

Fernando’s eyes flew open and he immediately stopped in his tracks. He turned to the source of the remark and saw the very same driver from yesterday. The tall boy was reclined against the front of his jeep. His aviators were on again, but Fernando could feel the glare straight on anyway.

“You know, you would be my favourite too, except you tried to kill me,” Fernando smiled sweetly in return.

“Yeah, well, you’re a pretty easy target,” the driver smirked.

Fernando rolled his eyes. “If you drive the way you do, anyone is a target. Like that girl,” he nodded towards a passing girl texting on her cellphone. “Or that tree over there,” he pointed over to the far side of the parking lot.

A small, twisted smile played on the stranger’s lips and for a long moment, his gaze just rested on Fernando. Fernando couldn’t see behind the guy’s shades, but he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Like the other boy was scrutinising him.

“Anyway, I’d love to stay for the sparkling conversation, but I’m afraid I have other things to do,” Fernando began, hitching his slingbag higher up his shoulder and starting to take a few steps away. 

“Hold on,” the driver suddenly said, pushing off of the hood of his car. He went by the side of his jeep and rummaged inside through the open window. Fernando stood there, confused – he could have walked away now, time was a-ticking and his class was not gonna wait for him. But he just stood there, waiting, almost in blind deference.

The other boy was finally able to extricate his knapsack from inside the car, and he started rooting inside it as he approached Fernando again. Suddenly, a fresh wave of anxiety hit Fernando. That this was a complete stranger and those tattoos were probably not a good sign, nor was his temperamental driving behaviour. And he wasn’t going to bring out a gun, right? It would be petty to shoot someone in bright daylight over something as small as a road altercation?

“W-what are you doing?”

_Click._

The driver started shooting Fernando, alright. His camera was poised in front of his face, resting solidly against the palm of his hand, with his fingers deftly adjusting the lens.

“Hey, stop!”

_Click._

“What the fuck are you doing?” Fernando demanded angrily, covering the boy’s lens roughly with his hands. The stranger immediately recoiled, covering his camera protectively and shoving Fernando away.

“What the fuck did you think I was doing?” He retorted back. “What, you think I’m perving on you? I’m stalking you now?”

Fernando couldn’t answer, and that made the stranger smirk again.

“Fine arts major, babe. Minor in photography. Happy?”

Fernando tried to cover up his embarrassed flushing by snapping, “So, you just start taking pictures randomly without asking for permission?”

“I don’t like it when my subjects pose.”

“I am not your _subject_.”

The boy shrugged, a snide grin tugging on his lips. “Too bad. You’re very pretty.”

The blush spread even more wildly now across Fernando’s face and neck. The stranger flipped his camera to show Fernando his shots. The Spaniard grudgingly admitted that they were good – the yellow of the sun, the blurred background of the cars and the pedestrians, the pure anger in his face.

“Ironic.” Fernando commented.

“Good eye,” the photographer smiled, and it was the first smile that didn’t contain a hint of sarcasm. “What’s your name?” He asked.

Fernando’s eyebrows rose in suspicion.

The other boy laughed, “For the caption. Or would you prefer ‘roadkill,’ because that would work too?”

“Uh, Fernando Torres.”

“Yeah, not gonna remember that. Do you have a pen or something?”

Fernando dug around his pockets for his Bic. He asked unsurely, “Paper?”

The boy held out his open hand. “Palm.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow.

“What? Palm is paper in rock, paper, scissors.”

Fernando shook his head, refusing to find that joke funny. “Fine.”

The boy offered his hand again, grinning widely now like this was a well-practiced foolproof tactic of his, and that irked Fernando. So, instead, he wrote on the back of his own hand.

_Fernando Torres._

“And so you remember,” he wrote under his name: _Roadkill._

“Brilliant. So, what now, I take your hand home with me?” The boy asked dryly.

“No. Take a picture.” Fernando said, adding smoothly, “I’m your subject, right?”

An amused grin slowly spread across the boy’s face, and he raised his camera again. Fernando raised his hand to the camera and, additionally, raised his middle finger to the stranger. The boy couldn’t help but laugh as he took the picture.

One last, quiet click.

“Compelling,” The boy commented, reviewing the photo and rubbing the screen against his shirt to clear it up.

“Thank you.”

“I’m Daniel Agger, by the way.”

Fernando shrugged and started walking away. He called back over his shoulder with a taunting smile, “Yeah, not gonna remember that.”

*

 

“I might submit your pictures for my portraiture class,” Daniel greeted as he suddenly appeared by Fernando’s side. “Is that okay?”

“Do what you want,” the Spaniard sighed dismissively, pushing past the crowd and hurrying down the corridors.

Dan struggled to catch up with the blonde. “Why the fuck are you always in a hurry?”

Fernando rolled his eyes and spoke loudly, so that Daniel – a few yards behind him – could still hear. “Because you’ve already made me late for class once. It’s not gonna happen again.”

There was a sudden tug on Fernando’s arm and he was pulled back a couple of steps. “Daniel!”

The boy grinned. “So, you remembered my name after all.”

“Good for you. Can I go now?”

“Wow, and people say I'm an asshole.”

“You are. I’m not. I just can’t be bothered to be nice with someone who isn’t.”

Daniel flinched. Okay, maybe he deserved that. Their introduction last week had not been pleasant.

“Let me make it up to you, I’ll drive you to your next class.”

“Excuse me?”

Dan shrugged. “I’m on break anyway.”

Fernando laughed in disbelief and pointed out, “I need to go to the School of Social Sciences.”

“I know,” Dan smirked, glancing at the Psychology book in Fernando’s arms. “Well?”

Well? Fernando wasn’t going to turn down a free ride.

“Fine, let’s go.”

Daniel grinned triumphantly and walked faster so he could lead the Spaniard to his car.

“I’m not going to die in this short, three-kilometer drive, am I?” Fernando asked, half-sarcastic, half-sincere.

Dan twirled his keys around his fingertip and did not answer – just whistled innocently.

“Daniel!”

“What?”

“Maybe I should just walk.”

Dan laughed. “Relax, I’ll follow the speed limit for you.”

“Thank you,” Fernando huffed.

When they got to the parking lot, Daniel got into the jeep first, so he could unlock the door to the passenger seat.

“What, it’s not automatic?” Fernando mocked.

Dan glared – he caressed the car’s dashboard defensively. “It’s an old car, but it runs like a dream, okay.”

And Fernando suddenly felt embarrassed because he didn’t expect Dan to take it so personally. He took his attitude down a notch. After all, Dan was already doing something nice for him.

“Um, I... like the seats?” Fernando offered. “They’re... squishy. Like… marshmallows,” he mumbled incoherently in a well-meaning yet failed effort to make it up to the driver.

Dan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have to patronise me.”

 _Damn,_ Fernando cursed inside his head. He was usually brilliant at making people like him. It came naturally with being born with good looks – he got away with an awful lot. But for some strange reason, he couldn’t be as smooth and charming with this boy.

It must be because Daniel was so annoying all the time.

Dan slipped the key in the ignition and the car came to life. Fernando silently noted that the engine did purr evenly. Dan eased the car into first gear, smoothly moving out of the parking slot. He was still a bit too fast on the turn, but Fernando could sense that he was intentionally driving slower than he wanted.

They turned into the university’s main avenue and Fernando found himself relaxing. He reclined in the seat and leaned his head on the headrest. “You know, these seats _are_ pretty damn comfortable.”

Dan barked out a short laugh, eyes not leaving the road. “Why thank you.”

“You sound like you love your car,” Fernando observed.

“Are you using your psychobabble on me?”

“No, I think it’s called trying to start a conversation. Is that too banal for you artists?”

Dan grinned, “A tad, but I’ll let this go this one time.”

Fernando laughed, and Dan liked the sound of it. “No, you’re right. Saved up for this car in my last two years in high school, never driven anything else since. Bought it second-hand, had to fix it up a bit, but I kinda like it scrappy.” Dan glanced at Fernando for a fleeting second to furrow his forehead, “Don’t know how you noticed though. You’re good.”

Fernando picked at a loose thread in the seat cover. “No, it’s just that every time you hit a pothole, you keep rubbing the dashboard of the car like you’re petting a dog or something.”

Dan laughed. He ran his hand through his unruly, wavy hair in embarrassment. “Sorry, I just have this strange compulsion to apologise to Matilda. She can’t take them cracks on the road so well anymore, you see.”

Fernando bit back a giggle. “Matilda?”

Dan nodded and grinned at Fernando. “Yeah. Only girl in my life. Other than my mum, of course.”

Fernando patted the dashboard too. “Nice to meet you, Matilda.”

“I believe you two have been acquainted a couple of days ago.”

“Yeah, she mustn’t like me that much.”

The car settled into a steady cruise of the university’s empty side streets, and Dan leaned back on his seat. “Nah. I invited you for a ride, didn’t I?”

*

“Who is this boy?” Steve Finnan asked. His voice sounded funny.

Dan looked up from his sketchpad and saw the Irishman going through his file case, looking at the photos he had just submitted for class.

Steve saw the irritation automatically dawn on Dan’s face – he was intensely private about his art, and he was one of the lucky few Dan showed it to when he was feeling generous. But they were in the cafe for a good two hours already, and Dan had barely talked, too engrossed with his drawings. Steve was done with his readings and was properly bored when he saw the file case lying idly on the seat, with the photos displayed in front.

“It’s just some boy I met.” Dan shrugged casually, but the furrow was still deep in his forehead.

“Well, you shoot him an awful lot,” Steve said, looking at the three pictures laid out in front of him.

Dan sighed loudly and closed his sketchbook. “Those were all taken in one day. It just so happened that they were all good shots.”

Steve nodded slowly. “How’d you meet him?”

A small smile played on Dan’s lips and his mood lightened a tad. “I almost ran him over in the Humanities driveway. It was hilarious.” He turned around one of the photos on the table so he could take a good look, “He was so livid, that’s why he looks so ridiculous in these.”

Steve rubbed his chin as he surveyed the pictures again. He said, “He doesn’t look ridiculous to me. Just... ridiculously attractive.”

Dan refused to be drawn into this. “I wouldn’t have shot him if he weren’t.”

“And you submitted these for Ferguson’s class and got an A+?” Steve said, looking at the scoresheet stapled to the photos. “Doesn’t he hate you?”

Dan kept his voice steady, “I told you, the shots all ended up looking good. I was eventually bound to do something right in Fergie’s class.”

Steve didn’t look fully convinced but he put the photos back. It was only when Dan heard the loud _click_ of his file case being locked that he could finally breathe easy.

*

Daniel was waiting for Fernando again after his Communications class.

“You know, I don’t understand. You don’t take any Humanities subjects. Why are you always here?”

“For you. What else is there?” 

Fernando rolled his eyes. He shrugged off compliments so easily. It was frustrating for Daniel. Fernando was a tough audience. He didn’t seem sold on Dan’s bullshit.

They walked out of the building together. When they got to the driveway, though, Fernando faltered, unsure if he was supposed to walk to his next class or Daniel was offering to drive him there again.

“Come on,” Daniel nodded to the parking lot where Matilda was waiting. “I thought Psychology students were supposed to be smart.”

“We are, that’s why we never assume.”

Daniel sighed. “Oh, you academic types. Must everything be so obvious?” He fell into a deep bow in front of Fernando, “My good sir, let me offer you a ride on my humble steed.”

Again with the eye-rolling, but Fernando chuckled this time.

The car ride was quiet as Daniel debated with himself whether he should show his pictures to Fernando. It’s why he wanted to see him in the first place. But now that he was here, he suddenly got cold feet. He didn’t want to seem like a little boy running to his mother to show off his gold star.

It was obvious that Fernando saw the envelope of pictures though. It was hard to miss. It lay on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat, labelled in big, block letters: “Photography 152: Portraiture.”

Daniel cleared his throat. “You can look at them if you want.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“Uh,” Daniel said. “No, go ahead, I want you to look at them.”

Fernando stared at Daniel in surprise, but he nodded and took the envelope.

There was a pause as Fernando studied the pictures. Daniel could hear the photo paper rustling as the other boy flipped through the files. It made his hairs stand on end. The wait was agonising, and he just wanted to look over so he could see Fernando’s reaction. But he was driving, and he didn’t want to risk another road altercation with the Spaniard.

“I don’t know anything about photography, but these look beautiful,” Fernando said.

Daniel let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He wanted to laugh out loud in relief, just throw back his head and chortle loudly. “Thanks. I got an A+ for that assignment.”

“Wow, that’s great!”

Daniel beamed with pride. He could see his reflection in the rearview mirror, and he was positively glowing. He never tired of saying that. “My professor for that subject never gives an A, much less an A+.”

“Congratulations!” Fernando reached across the car to squeeze Daniel’s arm. It was such a strange, foreign feeling.

Daniel took his eyes off the road fleetingly so he could smile at the blonde. “So, it turns out, you’re good for me.”

The silence stretched for a split-second too long before Fernando found a response. “These pictures are all you, though.”

“Oh no. Trust me, my first few pictures for this class all got a C.”

“Well, you were just starting out.”

“No, the comments were brutal. ‘Pretentious,’ and ‘it tries too hard.’ Fergie even told me, ‘I can hear you thinking.’”

They entered the driveway of the School of Social Sciences. Fernando began to unbuckle his seatbelt and gather his books.

“Anyway, Fernando,” Daniel blurted out.

Fernando looked up questioningly and Daniel’s palms started to sweat. The clock showed 10:01 AM, Fernando had to be in his class, and there was another car waiting behind them. He couldn’t linger.

“Yes?”

“Since your photos turned out so well the last time, I was wondering if I could shoot you again for my next assignment?”

Fernando blushed furiously. Like, Daniel could see the red creeping up from his neck to his cheeks and across his nose. It was amazing. He wished he could take out his camera then and there and start taking pictures.

“Uh, sure, I guess, if you really want to. I don’t really know how to pose or anything,” Fernando stammered.

Daniel covered Fernando’s hand with his, but just for a split-second, as if to pat him. “I told you, subjects look their best when they don’t pose.”

Fernando laughed nervously. He pulled back his hand and self-consciously tucked his hair behind his ears. “Okay then.”

“Can I get your number so we can schedule something?”

Fernando revered to his old, unruffled self. “What a trick,” he said, even as he wrote down his number on a Post-It.

“A trick? A trick to what?” Daniel challenged.

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

Daniel snatched the Post-It from Fernando before he could change his mind. “Whatever it is, you fell for it.”

*

Daniel wasn’t answering his text messages all morning, so by lunchtime, Steve called him. They always watched movies on Saturdays.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Dan. What time do you wanna meet up at the Cineplex?” Steve said as he got ready to take a shower.

There was a slight pause. “Oh. About that.”

Steve waited. “Yes?”

“I have a shoot today. I thought I told you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh,” Dan said flatly. “Well, I have a shoot today.”

“Will it take all day?”

He could hear Daniel sigh impatiently. “I don’t know. Sometimes it goes well, sometimes it doesn’t.” He was always so touchy about his work, and it grated on Steve sometimes. He was just asking how long he would take, but in Daniel’s mind, that meant he was asking him to make it quick.

After years of knowing each other, though, Steve has long learned to be patient with the younger boy. Daniel was difficult, but he didn’t mean any harm.

“Okay. Just call me when you’re done, maybe we can still catch the last full show,” Steve said, taking great care to sound gentle.

Daniel calmed down a bit. “Okay, I will.”

“So, what’s your shoot about?”

As if Daniel would tell him.

“It’s just for my portraiture class,” he answered vaguely.

“Fergie’s class? Are you shooting that boy again? Fernando?”

Daniel became uncomfortable. “I can’t believe you remember his name.”

“I saw the caption of your photos.”

“Again, I can’t believe you remember his name.”

Steve laughed. He was studying to become a doctor. Of course he had a good memory. “Are you sure that he’s just your friend? If your camera likes him, maybe you do too,” he teased.

“God, Finns, your jokes are so bad,” Dan groaned. “And I’m just taking his pictures!”

Steve just laughed harder. “He’s awfully pretty, come on. Kind of your type!”

“I’m hanging up on you! Good bye!”

*

Fernando knocked on the door of the studio just as Daniel was taping the black backdrop to the wall.

"Hey, I'm sorry I'm late. I got lost. I don't usually go to this side of the campus," Fernando said.

"No worries. Let me just get this up. Make yourself comfortable," Daniel said around the roll of tape he held between his teeth.

Fernando looked around the small studio. It only had space for a small stool, positioned against the backdrop, and three standing spotlights. Daniel's computer was on the floor, connected to his camera. Wires snaked around everywhere.

"So, this is the studio that your tuition pays for?"

Daniel laughed. "There are better studios in the new wing, but somehow, I like this one best. Back to basics. Raw."

Fernando nodded, "Seems like your style anyway."

"Thanks, I take that as a compliment."

“Yeah. I meant it as one.”

The two exchanged brief smiles. Daniel seemed like the type of person that took a while to warm up to others, so Fernando allowed himself to feel flattered that they got along well.

Once everything was set up, Daniel made Fernando sit down on the chair.

"The theme for the assignment is lighting," Daniel said. "I'm not particularly good at it, so you'll have to be patient with me."

He picked up his camera, "I'm going to try out different lighting arrangements for now to see what best suits you. We have three lamps, so we can range from a harsh light with just one or a softer light with all three."

Fernando listened intently. It made Daniel feel self-conscious. "Sorry, you don't have to listen to me. You don't need to know these things."

But the blonde shook his head. "No, I like it. It's interesting," he said with a sheepish laugh. Quick as a flash, Daniel held up his camera and took a picture.

Fernando instinctively turned away. "Daniel!"

"Sorry, sorry," the other boy held up his hand in apology. "Force of habit. I'll delete it."

He fiddled with the buttons of the camera. Fernando crossed his arms over his chest. "You're not really deleting it, are you?"

"'Course not."

Fernando laughed again -- _click_ , another picture -- "Asshole."

Daniel went back to work, placing one lamp to the left of Fernando and another just in front of him. “I’m just going to take a couple of test shots for each of the lighting arrangements, okay?”

Fernando had to smile. At least Daniel asked permission now. “Sure. Do I need to do anything?”

“Nope. They’re just test shots. Once I find the set-up where the light best plays across your face, we’ll start the actual shoot.”

It went on for some time. Daniel moved around the lights to the back, to the right, then snapping away at Fernando. It was awkward at first that he just had to sit still as Daniel circled him.

Sensing his discomfort, Daniel looked up from his camera. “Relax. If it helps, you can talk. I’m listening.”

Fernando rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension. “This is very different from the first time you shot me out in the parking lot. Do you prefer that, the candid shots, or do you like working in the studio better?”

Daniel looked up again. “Good question,” he winked.

Fernando laughed, “Thank you.”

“I prefer the informal shoots, going around, looking for photographs as they happen. Somehow, being in a studio terrifies me. You control all the elements – the light, the composition, the subject – and if something is off, it’s your fault.”

Daniel angled the lamp just one inch higher, eyes squinted as he watched the difference it made on the angles of Fernando’s face, then he took one or two shots. Fernando tried to read Daniel’s expression as he reviewed the pictures on his camera, but the frown, the furrowed forehead never left his features.

“Are all your classes photography classes? Or do you have to take other fine arts subjects too?”

“A lot of fine arts subjects. I was actually surprised at how many we were required to take.”

“Like?”

Daniel put down his camera for a second to wipe the sweat off his brow. The lamps were hot. “Like, fucking basic sculpture which I was shit at. I’m a photographer, for crying out loud. I cannot carve or model or _weld_. I swear, my hands were hopeless.”

Fernando laughed, and Daniel loved the way he laughed. It was so uncontrolled and unattractive, even. His shoulders rose to his ears and his head bent back and his body curled into itself.

“I’m taking a couple of drawing classes now, though. I like those. The painting, I can do without, but the drawing – I think it helps me take better pictures. You see the shapes better.”

Daniel stopped, suddenly realising just how much he’s said already. He wasn’t a talker or a sharer. It startled him. Fernando just stared, waiting for him to continue, hanging on to his words like he was learning so much.

He held up his camera again. It was comforting to hide behind it. “What about you? Psychology, eh? What do you become after that, a psychologist?”

Fernando smirked. “I don’t know. What do you become after your photography degree? A photographer?”

Daniel laughed, “You.” He wagged his finger and tsked, “You can be sharp.”

“Thanks,” Fernando batted his eyelashes. “I try.”

Daniel moved to a three-light set-up, spread out in various positions around Fernando. They descended into silence, as the younger boy took more test shots from different angles – left, right, high, low.

Fernando let himself zone out. The heat from the lamps was making him drowsy. One light was already uncomfortably warm; all three, and he couldn’t feel the air-conditioning at all. The sweat began to pool along his hairline.

“Here,” Daniel said in a hushed tone. Fernando looked up, vision just slightly hazy from the bright lights. The Dane was holding some paper towels. “May I?

Fernando swallowed the lump in his throat and coughed out a “yes.” Daniel gently reached out and dabbed the boy’s face with the tissue. “Just to even out the shine,” he whispered, pressing the towels against Fernando’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose. “Look up,” he requested. Fernando dutifully averted his gaze to the ceiling as Daniel patted the tissue just under his eyes. He held his breath the entire time, afraid to move.

Daniel stepped back after. He studied Fernando’s face closely for a while.

“You’re very beautiful,” he said – not like a compliment but as a matter of fact.

Fernando kept his eyes at a point just above Daniel’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“One last,” Daniel said. He took a picture of Fernando up close, standing right above him. The Spaniard’s face was relaxed – gaze turned upwards, framed by heavy lashes, freckles on full display and lips just slightly parted. His expression was a mix of fear and fascination, anxiety and calmness. It was probably the best shot yet.

Daniel stepped away and began going through his pictures.

“Do we do the shoot now?” Fernando asked. He squirmed in his seat, trying to get a look. He was getting antsy. The air in the studio was thick with tension.

Daniel didn’t stop reviewing his pictures, but a mischievous smile played on his lips. “Oh, we’re done.”

“Excuse me?”

“We’re done.” He held up the camera to show Fernando the screen, filled with maybe thirty, forty different shots of him. “I have enough.”

“B-but,” Fernando spluttered although the answer was becoming obvious to him, “You told me you were just taking test shots!”

Daniel was trying to hold back his laughter.

“I swear to god, Daniel, you are just…” Fernando shook his head and finally cracked up too, “Fuck it, I should have known you would pull another fast one on me.”

“I was really taking test shots! But they all turned out well!” Daniel reasoned out, still chuckling. His face was red and his eyes were teary.

“Like fuck you did!” Fernando said. “You just let me sit there like an idiot. Your photographs are going to be shit.”

Daniel nudged Fernando’s chin with his knuckle. “You really are fishing for compliments, aren’t you?”

“And apologies,” Fernando sniffed.

Daniel smiled. “Fine. I’m sorry. And you look great, even without trying.” 

Fernando really should have held out for much longer, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t his assignment. This wasn’t his grade. Besides, he didn’t like holding grudges. If Daniel liked the pictures, they probably weren’t so bad.

Daniel mistook Fernando’s silence, and he began to stress. “Wait, are you mad? I really am sorry. I just didn’t want to make you tense. At least now I know that I should tell you next time.”

Fernando rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.”

Daniel still looked anxious. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Fernando smirked. He pushed past Daniel. “And next time, really? You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

*

“Not bad, Mr. Agger.”

A thick manila envelope fell on his desk. Daniel looked up, but Mr. Ferguson had already turned away, returning the assignments of students in the next row. His other classmates were sighing and groaning as they read the feedback on their pictures.

“This is garbage, people,” Mr. Ferguson launched into one of his lengthy sermons. He didn’t raise his voice, and somehow that made his words more cutting. “Clearly, your fancy cameras have spoiled you, since I see very little technique here when it comes to controlling lighting in a studio.”

The professor drew a diagram on the board. “As I said, if your key light is here, then the fill light has to be here. As its name suggests, you need that light to fill out some of the shadows on the other side of the face.”

Daniel wasn’t listening, though. With trembling hands, he tore open his envelope. His scoresheet fell out before he could go through the photos he submitted. He froze. He got a B. Not as good as his A+ last time, but it was more than what he expected for this assignment. And by the looks of it, his classmates all got Cs and Ds.

At the bottom of his scoresheet, though, was one comment: “Same subject?” And for some reason, that troubled him throughout the rest of the class.

He stayed behind after dismissal, waited until the other students filtered out of the room with hunched shoulders and bowed heads.

“Yes, Mr. Agger? Not happy with your grade?”

Daniel couldn’t stop shaking his head. “Oh, no, no, sir. Nothing like that.” He shuffled to the teacher’s table, brought out his pictures and scoresheet. “I just wanted to know what you meant by your comment.”

Mr. Ferguson read what he wrote and shrugged. “What about it?”

“Well, I used the same subject, sir.”

“I can see that.”

“And for next week’s assignment, I’m using the same subject too.”

“As I expected.”

Daniel shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Is that wrong?”

Mr. Ferguson laughed. It was eerie – Daniel has never seen him laugh before. “There is no right and wrong in photography. Only good and bad photos. Clearly, you take good photos with this particular subject.”

Daniel looked down on the table where Fernando’s portraits were laid out. “Maybe I just got better?” He suggested with a weak laugh.

The professor quickly silenced him with a raise of an eyebrow. “I don’t see a significant improvement in technique.”

That shut Daniel right up.

“The reason why they’re better is because your pictures are no longer contrived. They feel natural.” Mr. Ferguson leafed through his class record, reviewing his previous notes on Daniel’s work.

“I know what you try to do, Mr. Agger. You’re the type of photographer that wants to shoot on the fly, off the cuff. The problem with that style is it’s unforgiving. It can easily look staged, unless the moment is wholly, completely and utterly unforced.”

The professor shrugged. “For a long time, most of your work just came off as fake.”

Daniel flinched at the blunt rebuke.

“But these photos,” Mr. Ferguson rapped his ballpen on the pictures, “I believe them.”

The teacher stood up and gathered his things, but Daniel couldn’t let him go. He tailed Mr. Ferguson as he made his way back to the faculty lounge.

“So, it’s because I’ve found a better model?” Daniel pressed.

“You’d be surprised. Even the best models can’t produce the best shots until they’re with the right photographer.”

“…And I’m the right photographer?”

“You’re the right photographer in as much as he is the right subject. He can give you sincere emotion, and you can shoot it with honesty.” Mr. Ferguson stopped walking so he could face Daniel. “You see, it’s not because you’ve gotten better or you’ve found a better model. The only thing that’s changed is that you’ve begun to shoot the right things.”

“Photography, at its very heart, is about shooting what you know and what you love. For the first time, your pictures actually show it.”

*

“Guess what?” Daniel spoke up as he drove Fernando to his class. “I got another A.”

“Really?” Fernando’s face broke into a wide, sunny grin. “I was nervous about that shoot. I didn’t think we’d pull it off.”

The theme of the week was action shots, and Daniel had Fernando play football for the camera. It took them hours before they got the shoot right. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. The park was so crowded and the weather was off – at first, it was too sunny and then it began to rain.

Daniel shrugged. “I really think my professor likes you.”

“Please tell me your professor is young, handsome, artistic and misunderstood?”

“Old, fat and Scottish.”

“Damn.” Fernando reclined in the car seat he had come to love. “You know you should really start paying me. I’m single-handedly pulling your grade up!”

They came to a stoplight. Daniel turned to Fernando. “Actually, I was thinking I could treat you out.”

“I was just kidding.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Okay, maybe a little. But you don’t have to.”

Daniel checked the stoplight to make sure it was still red. “Come on.”

“What do you mean, ‘come on’? Now?”

“Yeah! Let’s have brunch. My treat.”

“I have class.”

The light turned green, and they entered one of the main intersections of the campus. To the right was the turn to the School of Social Sciences; straight ahead was the university gate, leading to the town centre.

“Don’t tell me your offer is only good for today,” Fernando said.

“It’s not. But now is as good a time as any other,” Daniel nagged. “The sun is up, the sky is blue.”

“That’s a Beatles song.”

Daniel wiggled his eyebrows and crooned, “It’s beautiful and so are you.”

Fernando rolled his eyes. Daniel used to hate it when he did that. It was like he was never impressed with what Daniel said. But, he also never called Daniel out on his crap, so maybe, just maybe, he actually liked it.

“Well? When the light turns green, I’m going straight to the university gate unless you say that you want to go to class.”

The stoplight for the other street turned yellow and then red. The stoplight in their street flashed green. Daniel’s car didn’t move.

“Well?”

“You said you’d go straight to the exit unless I stopped you!”

The cars behind them started beeping.

“I was bluffing. You always rag on me for not telling you this, not telling you that, making decisions for you. You decide now.”

Fernando threw his hands up in the air. “You pick now to prove a point?”

The cars behind them started maneuvering to go around them, all the while raising hell and high water with the blaring of their horns.

“Fuck it, go, just go! Go straight!”

The car roared to life and it leapt through the intersection just before the stoplight turned red again. In a flash, they were cruising out of the campus and into town.

“If this is your way of repaying me… Fuck you.”

Daniel just grinned widely.


	2. You say, "The rain's the rain"

“Where were you yesterday, man? I didn’t see you in any of our classes.” Pepe Reina said as he joined Fernando in his library table.

The press release, at least to the professors, was that Fernando had gotten a bad bout of colds. But this was Pepe, one of Fernando’s closest friends.

“Daniel and I hung out.”

It was just supposed to be brunch but then they overate and couldn’t walk back to their car, so they ended up basking in the noontime sun on the patio of the restaurant. After that, they went out for coffee and some dessert – all on Daniel – and by the time they finished, Fernando would be late to his last class of the day, so he cut that too.

They drove up to the pier after to laze around in the late afternoon. Daniel wandered around to take photos while Fernando napped in the car.

“Daniel? That photographer?” Pepe nudged his friend. “What’s up between the two of you? You’ve been going out for some time now.”

“We’re not going out,” Fernando corrected, but his cheeks turned hot. He busied himself with lining up his books in a pile. “We’re just...”

“Fucking?”

“God, no.”

“Dating?”

Fernando balked. That was such a loaded term. He liked Daniel – reluctantly, secretly, the kind that crept up on you – but he didn’t know if Daniel felt the same way. “No.”

“Oh, so he’s just taking your pictures then.”

Fernando groaned. “Daniel… He just keeps his cards close.”

Pepe smiled humourlessly, and it made Fernando nervous. It was hard to fool Pepe. He had a good reading of people, and the way his forehead was furrowed signalled that what he wasn’t happy.

“He chauffeurs you around campus, takes you out on dates, makes you his bleeding muse. He clearly likes you, and you like him back. So what’s the issue?”

Fernando crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s unfair. A lot of people find themselves in this situation.”

“Yeah, and it’s a bullshit situation because more often than not, the guy is just leading you on or keeping you in the dark,” Pepe said. “I’m just calling it as I see it.”

*

It was a scorching day out, so Daniel offered to give Fernando a tour of the dark room to escape the heat. Daniel toted a manual camera sometimes, and Fernando always wondered how he developed the film.

The walk there was quiet and the Dane was nervous. This was the first time they were hanging out beyond their arranged shoots and their regular Tuesday drives. It felt laden with meaning, and that put him on edge.

“Be careful,” Dan said as they entered the front of the dark room. It was dim and covered with tiles, water splattered on the floor. On one wall were lines and lines of wires for pinning up pictures that needed to be dried. Another held a large shelf of film and chemicals.

“This looks… terrifying,” Fernando said.

“Yes, it ranges from ‘basement of mass murderer’ to ‘makeshift abortion center,’” Daniel said wryly. “But once you get used to it, you learn to love it.”

He led Fernando to one rack where some of his pictures were. “I don’t usually like leaving my pictures here to dry. Other students also use this dark room, and I don’t like it when they see my work, especially the photos I’m not happy with.”

He plucked several photos from the clothesline -- two of the pier, both out of focus, and one of a boy, too dark – and he folded them in half. “These, for example.” He tossed them in the recycling bin.

“How can you tell, though, when you use a manual camera? You can’t review the photos you take.”

Daniel shrugged. “It’s hit or miss. There are light metres that you can adjust, along with the aperture and the shutter speed, but you still hold your breath until the film gets developed.”

He pointed to the photos left on the wall – one of a soccer ball, another of worn-out cleats, three or four of Fernando resting after the football game. “Some pictures, though… they just feel good.”

They headed to the main area of the dark room. Daniel held open the thick, heavy curtain for Fernando, then let it back down once they were inside. It immediately shut out all light. Fernando couldn’t even see his hands in front of him.

“This is where we develop the film to the photos. The photo paper cannot be exposed to light, that’s why, well, we work in a dark room,” Daniel said. “Are you there?”

A soft, unsure “mmm-hmmm” somewhere to his right.

Daniel felt around until he could hold Fernando firmly by the shoulder. “Follow me,” he said. He had come to memorise the turns in the dark room. He walked them to the leftmost side, where the projectors were.

“You load the print that you want to develop and then the lamp will project it into the photo paper.”

“Wait, let me try.”

They were both whispering even though they were the only ones there.

Fernando took one of the leftover strips of film and placed it onto the projector. He chose a print of Daniel’s car. Daniel reached around him to switch on the lamp.

It was only then he realised how close they were: Fernando pressed up against the table, Daniel just behind him. Their shoulders grazed fleetingly.

The lamp was on for exactly one minute as it exposed the photo paper, following the image imprinted on the film. It cast a faint, yellow glow around them, illuminating just the edges of their bodies where Daniel’s chin hovered over Fernando’s shoulder and his fingers intertwined with Fernando’s as he helped him hold the photo paper steady.

A soft click and the lamp shut off. Fernando blinked to get used to the dark again.

“Next, we treat the photo paper with the chemicals to bring out the image.”

They walked blindly to a long, narrow table that carried a line of trays.

“Put the photo in the developer for two minutes and agitate it,” Daniel said.

“Am I supposed to just use my hands?”

“Well, I just use my hands. It’s recommended that you wear gloves or use tongs, since the developer can be harsh on the skin, but it’s not toxic.” Daniel laughed, holding up his hands. “That’s why my palms are rough as fuck.”

Fernando didn’t know how he found Daniel’s hands in the dark, but he did. Before he could stop himself, he was reaching out to feel the other boy’s palms to see if they were as rough as he said. 

They were, but they were also pliant and warm.

“I like them.”

Fernando turned away to get to work, and he felt Daniel’s hands drop to his waist to guide him to the right tray. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He willed himself to focus as he followed Daniel’s instructions, submerging the photo until it was evenly covered with the developer.

“Next, the stop bath. That will be just 30 seconds.” Daniel kept a running commentary as he walked Fernando through every stage. In the endless stretch of darkness of the room, it felt like Dan’s words ghosted right by the shell of Fernando’s ear. “And then the fixer for one to two minutes.”

After the treatment, the photo had to be rinsed. Daniel ushered Fernando to the sink, one hand firmly on the small of the other boy’s back.

“How long with the rinse?” Fernando said.

Daniel left the faucet open for the running water to clean the surface of the photo. “Around 20 minutes?”

Fernando felt his throat constrict. “Seems like a while.”

Already, he felt Daniel’s grip on his waist tighten. “Mm-hmm.”

Fernando wished he could see Daniel’s expression, his disposition. But even by the hitch in the photographer’s voice, the tension in his touch, it couldn’t be mistaken.

It was a tangle of limbs as they tried to place each other. Hands sought shoulders and chests, while lips followed along jawlines and necks. When they finally met into a full-on kiss, Daniel couldn’t stifle his groan of relief.

Daniel reached around Fernando to tug him closer, bring their bodies flush against each other. Fernando scrambled to follow, their knees banging together, throwing him off-balance. He grabbed the table to steady himself, almost knocking over a tray. “Fuck.”

“Leave it,” Daniel urged, and then they were just kissing. He didn’t think he’d desired anyone that fiercely, not until that moment.

Fernando couldn’t stay still. He couldn’t see Daniel, but it felt like he was coming at him from all angles. It was impossible the way he was kissing Fernando’s left earlobe and then biting his right shoulder or groping him from behind. It felt like there were so many of him, and he just had to surrender.

*

It was awkward, stepping out into the light again. Daniel’s face was red, his hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were droopy. Fernando was sure he was just as bad.

They could barely look at each other afterwards. It was like something had snapped between them when they were in the safety and security of the dark room, but out here, there were no such comforts.

Daniel cleared his throat and muttered something about finishing up. He walked to the other end of the room to hang the photo to dry.

Fernando tried to make himself look decent again – patting down his hair, fixing the buttons of his shirt. “Do you have plans after this?”

Daniel stumbled over his sentence. “Oh. I have a dinner.”

Fernando’s face fell, but Daniel couldn’t do anything. It was true – he promised to meet up with Steve for dinner. They decided it as early as Monday, and Steve hated it when Daniel changed plans at the last second.

Besides, maybe the night apart would be good for them. Daniel had no regrets. God, no. But he just needed to get his head around what happened.

“Where are you off to now?” Daniel asked as they headed out.

“Maybe the library. I should probably get started on my paper.”

Daniel checked his watch. Steve was arriving at his apartment in 20 minutes, and the library was down the opposite end of the campus. “I don’t really have time to go all the way there, but maybe I can drop you off in a bus stop?”

Fernando’s face was tomato red now. “No, no. I can walk, it’s fine. I don’t want to be a hassle.”

They stared at each other unsurely. Daniel rocked on his feet, Fernando chewed on his bottom lip.

“Okay, then. I’ll see you again on Tuesday,” Daniel said, offering the other boy a tight smile.

“Sure. Thanks for the tour,” Fernando replied with a limp wave.

No one was going to leave until somebody just turned around and walked away, so Daniel just took a deep breath and did it first.

He regretted it instantly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cursed himself as he got into his jeep. “You’re a fucking idiot, Agger. Fucking idiot.” He didn’t think this entire thing through, and now he’s left both of them hanging.

“Fuck!” He yelled again, banging his hands on his steering wheel. “What was I thinking?” He sped dangerously down the campus roads, angrily moving from one gear to another.

Up above, the skies had dimmed to a shade darker than usual for this time of the day. The sun had been murderous earlier, but now the clouds looked heavy. In a few seconds, droplets of rain began to fall, big and fat and bursting against his windshield.

Daniel immediately fretted. For sure Fernando wasn’t at the library yet. And for sure that stupid boy didn’t bring an umbrella with him. There weren’t any waiting sheds anywhere from the School of Fine Arts to the University Library – it was just a wide stretch of lawns and gardens.

He looked around outside. Other students were already running for cover as the rain pelted down faster. He checked his watch. He didn’t have time for this, but.

He hit the hazard button on his car, and then immediately took an illegal U-turn. The tires of his jeep thudded painfully against the raised lane dividers. He patted Matilda’s dashboard apologetically, but he didn’t stop driving, wheels screeching against the wet asphalt.

He searched the roads frantically for someone who looked like Fernando. Maybe he stayed behind in the School of Fine Arts after all? Daniel doubted that, though. Fernando wasn’t familiar with the building and he didn’t know anyone there. He suddenly felt guilty for bringing the boy all the way to his college without even giving him a ride out.

Daniel finally found Fernando by an intersection, his file case held over his head as he waited for the stoplight to turn red so he could cross. He honked his horn loudly, cut in front of another car so he could switch to the lane closest to the sidewalk.

He popped open the car door, yelling, “Get in!”

The rain was pouring into the car as Fernando leapt inside. As soon as the door closed, Daniel sped away.

Fernando scrambled to keep his wet clothes off the car seat but it was hopeless. He was tracking water everywhere on the mats and the upholstery.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You should have gone back to Fine Arts! You should have called me for a ride!” Daniel didn’t know why he was so agitated. Fernando looked like he had drowned.

“You said you were busy!”

“I was, but clearly, it’s a different matter altogether if there’s a bloody storm coming in!”

“I was going to be fine, I was just a couple of blocks away from the library!”

Daniel scoffed. “A couple of blocks and then what? You were going to stand under the hand dryer in the bathroom?”

Fernando threw his hands up in the air. “Get off my case.”

Daniel glared at him. He wasn’t done: “Put on your seatbelt.”

Fernando rolled his eyes, strapped himself in and crossed his arms over his chest. His face was thunderous and his skin had grown pale.

Daniel sighed and massaged his temples to calm himself down.

When they got to a stoplight, Daniel rummaged around the back of his car and pulled out a spare jacket he had left around.

“Here,” he handed it to Fernando. “You might catch a cold.”

Fernando glanced at him unsurely. Dan urged, “Go on.” He switched off the air-conditioning too.

Fernando took off his sopping wet sweater and t-shirt, crumpled them in a ball and left them on the rubber matting. Daniel kept his eyes averted as Fernando slipped on the jacket over his bare upper body.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“I can get you some more dry clothes in my apartment. I can also hail you a cab from there so you can get home safe.”

“Ok.”

Daniel glanced at Fernando. The boy stared out the window, arms still crossed over his chest, frown firmly in place. He didn’t mean to yell at him. He was just stressed.

They drove in stony silence. The rain had made the roads slippery and traffic snarled across the city. It took them twice as long to get home.

Daniel eased his car into an empty parking space. His apartment building didn’t have basement parking, so there wasn’t any cover going to the lobby. “We’ll have to make a run for it.”

Fernando was reluctant. “Your umbrella’s tiny. Just go ahead without me. There’s a bus stop across the street.”

“Shut up, Fernando, you are not going to the bus stop.”

The Spaniard shook his head stubbornly. “I’ll just return your jacket on Tuesday.”

“No, come on. I’ll go out first and then I’ll fetch you on that side.”

“Dan, I’ve bothered you enough.”

“It’s fine!”

“Dan!” Fernando cried out, exasperated.

“Fernando!” Dan yelled back.

They glared at each other as the rain continued to pound the car mercilessly. Daniel rubbed his face tiredly. He’s been getting everything wrong today.

He reached out to take Fernando’s cold hands and held them between his palms. “Fernando,” he insisted, “You are not an inconvenience to me. And I’m sorry I lost my temper.” He admitted reluctantly, “I… I was worried.”

Fernando didn’t say anything, he kept his face turned away, but Daniel could see the pink creeping into his cheeks.

“Hey,” Daniel said, nudging Fernando by the chin.

The boy looked up, the beginnings of a smile.

Daniel reached out and brushed away the damp hair from his eyes. “Are we okay?”

“Yeah.”

They smiled at each other tentatively. Daniel wanted to lean in and kiss Fernando again.

Fernando stretched in his seat, his wet jeans clinging heavily to his legs. “Perfect timing. It looks like your doorman is coming to get you.” He nodded towards the lobby where a man was coming out, holding a huge golf umbrella and heading for their car.

Daniel craned his neck. His windshield had fogged up because he turned off the air-conditioning, but he did see the bright orange umbrella bobbing closer. “Strange. We don’t have a doorman.”

He switched on the wipers, but the fog just smeared across the glass. He leaned closer to the windshield and killed the headlights to get a better look of the stranger. What he saw next made his heart stop.

It wasn’t a doorman. It was Steve. And he didn’t look happy.

*

Daniel’s knees were shaking as he slipped out of the car and under the shade of Steve’s umbrella. “What are you doing here?”

Steve hadn’t even said anything yet and Daniel’s voice was already high-pitched and racked with anxiety. The first sign that something was wrong.

“What do you mean what am I doing here? We were supposed to meet up 30 minutes ago!”

“I am not that late!” Daniel spluttered. He checked his watch. He was 35 minutes late, actually. Had it really taken him that long to fetch Fernando and drive here? How long were they in the car talking? And how long had Finns been there?

It was still raining hard and the umbrella could only offer so much protection. Steve yanked Daniel by the arm to the lobby, even as the younger boy protested, “Wait. No. Finns!” He was like a kid being dragged back inside after being caught playing in the mud and jumping in puddles.

Steve didn’t let him go until they were in the quiet corner of the lobby. “You’ve got some explaining to do,” he said, jabbing Daniel in the chest.

“I’m sorry I’m late! In case you haven’t noticed, it’s been raining buckets today.”

Oh, sarcasm. Something was definitely wrong.

“Okay, and why is there another boy in your car?”

Daniel’s jaw dropped, like he was personally offended by the question. “I let him hitch with me because it was raining.”

“Oh, you let him hitch… to your flat.”

“He was caught in the rain. I offered to lend him a change of clothes.”

“That’s so nice of you!” Steve mocked back. He gazed back at the car and there was that boy in the passenger seat – _his seat_. That face was too familiar.

“That’s your muse, isn’t it.”

Daniel scoffed. “Muse? Please, Steve.”

“Where did you come from? A shoot? You don’t have an assignment this week. You said so yourself.”

Daniel bristled at the interrogation. And did Steve really memorise his schedule? “We came from the dark room. I just wanted to show him my pictures.”

That really did it for Steve. Daniel never showed him his work in progress, never took him to the dark room. “What is it with him? Are you seeing him? Do you like him?” He demanded.

Daniel shook his head. “You’re crazy, Finns.”

“Answer me!”

“He’s my fucking subject!” Daniel enunciated every syllable. “That’s why I brought him to the dark room. Get a fucking grip!”

“And what about me? You don’t take me to the dark room.”

“Jesus Christ, Finns. You’re different.”

“He’s special.”

“I don’t even know how that has gotten into your head,” Daniel said. “We just went to the dark room, it rained, he hitched, I was late. That’s it.”

Steve didn’t believe Daniel though. He was too defensive. He never answered the questions directly. And his story was too clean in the places that didn’t matter and too messy in the places that did.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Steve said.

Daniel’s jaw dropped in disbelief. They would talk about it _more_? Hadn’t they exhausted the issue yet? Wasn’t his explanation clear enough?

Steve nodded towards Daniel’s car. “Send Fernando home.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, send him home. We’re supposed to have dinner, aren’t we? Or were you planning to cancel on me?”

Daniel was aghast. But more importantly, Daniel was nervous. Like he didn’t know how he would send Fernando away.

“Well?”

“Fine.”

Daniel was already taking a few steps back outside when Steve suddenly ran after him. “Wait, I’ll go with you.”

“What?”

“I want to go with you. I want to meet Fernando.”

There was just cold, cold hate in Daniel’s eyes. “Fine.”

*

Daniel was taking too long. It had been a good 15 minutes since he left the car and then he disappeared. Fernando was starting to get worried. Not to mention, he was getting cold, covered in his wet jeans and shoes.

After another long wait, Daniel finally reappeared. He was accompanied by someone.

Daniel returned to the driver’s seat and slammed his car door closed. He stared straight ahead and wrapped his hands around the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles were white.

“What’s wrong?” Fernando asked. He was interrupted, though, when the door to the passenger seat opened. Another boy stood there, holding the bright orange umbrella they saw earlier. Guess he wasn’t the doorman.

The other boy stared at him pointedly. Fernando stared back, confused beyond words.

“That’s my seat,” the stranger said.

Daniel groaned. “Finns.”

“What?” the stranger hit back.

Fernando just gathered his things and shrugged. It was an odd request, but hey, he wasn’t getting into a fight over who would ride shotgun.

The boy finally took the passenger seat and Fernando moved to the back. When everything was settled, Daniel gunned the engine with a little too much force. Matilda coughed a cloud of smoke before she finally got running.

The boy turned in his seat to get a good look of Fernando. The Spaniard suddenly felt self-conscious as he felt the stranger scrutinise him from head to toe. He patted down his hair nervously.

“We’re just going to drop you off at the bus stop,” the boy said.

“Oh,” Fernando said, surprised at the change of plans. He looked at Daniel for confirmation, but Daniel just hugged the steering wheel close to him like he was afraid it would fall off. “Okay. Thanks, uh…?”

Instead of introducing himself, the boy glanced at Daniel expectantly.

Daniel gritted his teeth. Fernando had never seen him like that.

“Fernando, this is Steve Finnan,” Daniel said. He didn’t have to continue – the truth was suddenly, painfully clear to Fernando. “He’s… he’s my boyfriend.”

*

No one spoke for the rest of the car ride. It took all of five minutes to get to the bus stop but it felt like it stretched on forever.

When they got there, Fernando couldn’t even bring himself to say thank you for the ride. And when he left, Daniel couldn’t even say goodbye.

*

“It’s not even that you were late, Daniel. It’s that you didn’t even tell me why. Why couldn’t you just tell me you were out with Fernando? Why couldn’t you just tell me you would take longer than expected or you were stuck in traffic or you had to drop off that boy?” They were already done with dinner – a very long and uncomfortable dinner – and Steve still wasn’t done.

Daniel sighed. “It wasn’t important.”

“If it wasn’t important, why couldn’t you just tell me? Who lies about going to the dark room for work?”

“Because I’m not lying!” Daniel said, slamming his palm against the table. The cutlery jumped. “How many times am I going to tell you? You just caught us sitting in the car together. You think just because I’m taking his pictures, I’m already screwing him.”

“Well, are you?”

“I told you, nothing happened between us.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Daniel covered his face with his hands. If Steve wouldn’t believe him anyway, what was the use of arguing about this again and again and again? 

“That’s unfair and you know it,” Daniel said. “I can’t prove you wrong because you refuse to accept my explanations.” He scoffed, “But you know what? You can’t prove yourself right either. So if you want to keep believing in your delusions, go ahead.”

Daniel was running on pain and panic, and that made him feel no remorse whatsoever about lying. And maybe even cheating.

It wasn’t until the end of the night, when they walked back to his car, and Steve broke down in the parking lot and Daniel wrapped his arms around his boyfriend’s heaving body that the truth finally hit home. What had he just done?

*

“A boyfriend? A boyfriend?!” Fernando exclaimed in disbelief. He chugged down his drink thirstily – his tongue, his brain couldn’t even register the alcohol. “Why the fuck didn’t I see that coming?!”

Pepe winced as Fernando slammed down his mug and it clattered loudly against the table. It was a good thing they were in a cheap pub and the mugs were made of plastic, their bases already cracked by many a drunken man.

He watched his friend closely. Fernando was a smart, sharp boy. He’s attracted more than his fair share of jerks, liars and cheaters, so he’s been well-trained to see right through the intentions of his suitors.

This one, this one case – Fernando was completely blindsided. But Pepe saw the big, fat, glaring question mark right from the start, so why didn’t Fernando? Either Daniel was an expert liar or their tryst had been intense enough to block out the doubts.

“Daniel never mentioned it?”

Fernando shrugged, stared sullenly at his drink. “I never really asked, and we never really got around to that topic.”

“He still should have told you to be sure.”

“He’s a private person.”

Pepe shook his head. “Why are you still justifying what he did? He clearly, intentionally hid it from you, Fer.”

The blonde shrugged defeatedly. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he didn’t like me, that’s why he never thought of mentioning Steve.”

Pepe laughed sardonically. “Wake up, Fer! He kissed you in the dark room! Of course he likes you!”

Fernando was dejected. “I really liked him.”

Pepe reached across the table to hug his friend. “I know you did.” 

*

“What grade did you get?” Martin Skrtel, his classmate, asked, even as he craned his neck to peek at Daniel’s scoresheet.

Daniel sighed and hid his scoresheet underneath his notebook. “C-.”

“What?” Martin exclaimed. He snatched Daniel’s scoresheet before the Dane could react.

Daniel followed Martin’s eyes as it scanned through the paper – the breakdown of scores, the final grade, the comments. “A big step back,” it read. It was like a knife to the heart.

“What happened? Fergie loves you!”

“Bad week.” An understatement, to say the least. Even Martin got a B-. No offense meant to the guy, but he was a better photographer by a mile.

Daniel rushed out of the classroom the moment the bell rang. Right before he passed the door, though, he heard his professor’s voice.

“Mr. Agger, a moment.”

Daniel froze. His other classmates stopped moving too – that was the authority Mr. Ferguson carried. There was no way he could escape. He bowed his head and went back inside.

“Yes, sir?”

Mr. Ferguson nodded at the pictures in Daniel’s hands. “A new face, I see.”

Daniel turned red. The assignment for this week was a photo series, three to five different photos of one person. He had shot Steve.

“Yes, sir. I thought I would experiment with a new subject.”

Mr. Ferguson smiled humourlessly. “Not all experiments work, do they?”

Daniel winced. He had spent most of the semester insulated from the professor’s criticism, but now he was fair game, just like everybody else.

“Are you happy with these pictures, Mr. Agger?”

Of course he wasn’t. The shoot had gone terribly. Steve, he got so tense whenever Daniel held up his camera. Like, they would be studying together and Steve would look so beautiful with his chiselled features and the intensity in his eyes, and Daniel would try to sneak a photo but immediately, Steve’s shoulders would fold and his lips would purse and the emotions would drain from his face.

“No, no, just ignore the camera,” Daniel said.

“I can’t ignore it, it’s right there!” Steve exclaimed.

“Okay, then just try to smile, laugh, make a face, but don’t freeze.” Daniel tried to keep his voice light and enthusiastic, but he was getting a headache, wrangling over the pictures. The shoot was supposed to be natural and effortless, or else it would show in the photos.

And clearly, his boyfriend was just as stressed. Steve could sense that the shoot wasn’t going well, and it pained him that he couldn’t be a good subject for his boyfriend. Not like Fernando.

Daniel raised his camera again, and this time, Steve gave him a smile. It was pretty. But, it was the type of pretty where Steve fell into his favoured poses: chin tilted down, face turned to the side, exactly eight teeth showing.

Daniel didn’t even want to look at the photos he had submitted to Mr. Ferguson.

“No, sir, I’m not happy with them.”

“Well, then, I’m happy you still have the eye for a good photo. Next time, try to use it. Don’t turn in this kind of crap unless the career you want in photography is to take graduation pictures down at the local community college.”

Daniel was stung. “Yes, sir, understood.”

*

“Hey, how’d your class go?” Steve asked. He found that he was just as nervous to know what Daniel’s grade was as much as Daniel himself.

Daniel didn’t look up from his book, just gave a noncommittal grunt.

“It didn’t go well, didn’t it?” Steve groaned. “I’m sorry, Danny.”

His boyfriend forced a tiny smile. “It’s no big deal. It’s just one assignment.”

But of course it was a big deal. Daniel loved that class, as he did all his photography classes. And he was so proud that he was doing well under an infamous professor.

“How many more assignments do you have left in the semester?”

“Just one more.”

“Have you thought about who you’re shooting yet?”

Daniel sighed tiredly. “I don’t know. I might ask Martin Kelly.”

Steve tapped his highlighter on his notebook, and his heartbeat followed the swift, irregular pattern it made. “You could ask Fernando.”

“Finns, please. How many times…”

“Well, why not?”

“No,” Daniel said firmly. Since the incident, Steve hasn’t been able to find it in him to forget Fernando. He always brought him up, waited for Daniel’s reaction and dissected it until he came to the conclusion that – of course – there was something going on between them.

Even the innocuous questions were landmines, like, “How old is Fernando? Oh, you’re the same age! That’s nice.” Because one too many of their fights had been chalked down to their eight-year age gap. Or, “What did you say his course was? Psychology? But that’s not even a _real_ science.” Because of course, Steve took up biochemistry and now he was in medicine and those were good, _hard_ sciences.

Daniel thought the issue was closed. Steve was quiet throughout the entire night after that, deep in thought. When he dropped him off at his apartment, though, his boyfriend brought it up again.

“Look, I’m just saying that if you need to ace your next shoot and you think you need Fernando to do it…” he heaved a drawn-out sigh so long he might have changed his mind in the middle, “Then maybe you should do it.”

“I don’t want us to get into another argument, Steve.”

“I won’t start an argument.”

Daniel waved off the suggestion. “It’s fine, it’s just one last assignment. I’m sure I can scrape something together.”

Steve wasn’t convinced. “Okay, but if you want to do it...”

Daniel didn’t respond.

“So, will you? Are you considering it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ok. But if you do, I just want you to tell me.”

Daniel was sceptical. This was a trap wrapped in a good idea. Even now, just talking about it, Steve was already so anxious. What more when it actually happened?

Besides, what did it matter if Daniel wanted to do it? Of course he wanted to do it. He missed the joy, the ease of shooting Fernando. And he missed Fernando.

The more important question, though, was if Fernando wanted to do it. And he had no reason to believe that he would.

*

“Hey.”

Three Tuesdays, three weeks that Daniel had disappeared. And here he was, out of nowhere, no explanation, no apology, no sign of remorse, saying “hey.”

“Can I give you a ride?”

Fernando didn’t stop walking and didn’t answer either. He hoped his silence was enough of a response as he crossed the driveway to walk to his next class.

“Even if you choose to walk, I could just walk with you, so you might as well hitch with me,” Daniel said, keeping stride with the Spaniard. “And you know, if you really despise my presence, a car ride will be much, much shorter than a walk.”

Daniel was right, of course. But Fernando could not deign to concede to him, so he carried on his way. If Daniel wanted to come along, then fine. He could take pleasure in the fact that Daniel would have to walk all the way back to the School of Humanities afterwards to get his car.

The walk was quiet all throughout. Maybe Daniel was avoiding the issue of Steve Finnan or maybe he was giving Fernando his space. Fernando always found himself thinking the best of Daniel, though, so he believed it was the latter.

The truth was, Daniel couldn’t speak because he didn’t know what to say. How could he say sorry for kissing Fernando? He wasn’t. And how could he say sorry for having a boyfriend? Because, well, he wasn’t too.

He ended up ditching the apologies all together, promising to himself that he’d get back to them next time, as soon as possible, sometime in the near future or maybe never, if he could get away with it, if Fernando never asked.

They arrived at the School of Social Sciences. He stopped Fernando before he could run up the steps. They had just a few minutes left until his class began.

“Hey. You have every reason to say no, but I have a shoot this week. I was hoping you would be my subject again.”

Yes, Daniel was that asshole who showed his face only because he needed something. That was exactly what he sounded like. He didn’t mean to, but he definitely wasn’t doing himself any favours.

But, it was okay because Fernando was that idiot who said yes anyway.

He tried to think long and hard about Daniel’s offer, but the decision was already made the moment the boy came up to him this morning.

It was a bad idea, by all accounts. But Fernando missed Daniel, and he missed him more than he was angry at him. And when you missed someone, you didn’t care what the circumstances were as long as you saw each other again.

When he agreed, Daniel was almost bowled over. “Same studio, same time?”

“I’ll be there.”

*

“You’re not going to like what I’m going to tell you.”

Pepe stopped drinking. “Oh no.”

“Don’t get mad, okay?”

Pepe shook his head. “When people say that, you know you’re going to get mad. So, no.”

“At least keep it down.”

“Fuck, what did you do?”

Fernando winced. “Daniel asked to photograph me again” – he prepared himself for the onslaught – “And I said yes.”

Pepe slumped back in his seat and covered his face with his hands, wailing loudly. “Fernando!”

“I just wanted to see him again.”

Pepe glanced at his friend between his fingers. “Okay. But please tell me you said yes only after he explained himself.”

Fernando just drank his beer quietly.

“Did he explain why he kept his boyfriend secret? Or why he kissed you even when he had a boyfriend? Or, you know, fuck explanations, at least an apology? Even an attempt?”

Fernando couldn’t look at him.

“Did you at least ask if he was still together with Steve?”

Fernando hung his head so his hair covered his eyes. “No.”

There was a long pause as Pepe considered the choicest words. He had a hundred and one things to curse at Fernando right now, followed by a series of admonitions and then maybe a healthy dose of clichéd relationship advice.

Fernando looked distraught, though, as he had the past couple of weeks so Pepe sighed heavily and settled with a wry “I see your learning curve isn’t very steep.”

The other boy chuckled dryly.

“He’s doing a Ben Franklin on you, you know.”

“A what?”

“The Ben Franklin effect. He gets you to do one favour for him, and then another, and then another, and now you can’t stop.”

“Oh.” That was taught long ago, way back in Psychology 101.

“Now, you can’t reconcile the fact that you have to dislike Daniel with the fact that you’ve consistently helped him before, so you justify that he isn’t so bad after all.” 

Fernando scratched his chin. “You know, that is the most fucked up theory I know. I could never understand it.”

“But now we know it’s true,” Pepe shrugged.

Fernando nodded. “Now we know it’s true.”

*

Fernando should have asked Daniel what the shoot was about because there was something dubious in the way the photographer couldn’t look him in the eye when he arrived in the studio. In their previous shoots, Daniel was always busy with setting up, but now he stood rooted on the spot, obsessively wiping the screen of his camera on his shirt.

“Yes?”

Daniel finally hung his camera around his neck, planted his hands on his hips. “So, the theme for this week is non-traditional portraits.”

“Uh-huh?”

“The pictures have to be anything but the face. Body shots.”

Fernando’s first reaction was a mix between an airy scoff and a sigh of disbelief.

Daniel had the decency to smile guiltily. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when I invited you.”

But of course he didn’t, just like Daniel didn’t tell him other things that he thought he could get away with. It didn’t matter if they were big secrets or little secrets, Fernando realised. Daniel kept them all.

Fernando stared at Daniel coldly – he didn’t need to speak up to convey just what he was thinking.

The Dane shrank back, “I meant to text you about it…”

“Whatever,” Fernando cut him off. “Listen, I can only spare an hour. I promised my friends I would meet up with them after.” He didn’t bother making the lie less blatant. He’d lost all interest being there.

“Oh, okay,” Daniel said, flustered. He rummaged around the room and brought out a paper bag for Fernando. “I’m going to need you to put this on.” Before the Spaniard could react, he explained, “It’s just a robe. Clothes leave marks so we’ll have to get your skin to rest first before we shoot.”

This was snowballing into a bigger and bigger nightmare.

Fernando snatched the paper bag from Daniel and peered inside where a terrycloth robe was still wrapped in plastic. The studio was a small square of space with no partitions for a changing room. Of course. Fernando sighed and walked to one corner. “Turn around,” he ordered Daniel.

The photographer immediately walked to the opposite corner and faced the wall like a child on time-out. The room was quiet. He could only hear the whirr of the air-conditioning, the hiss of the warm lamps and the crumple of paper and plastic as Fernando took out his robe.

“Don’t worry, that’s brand-new. I bought it in Marks and Spencer last night just for you,” Daniel said, his voice bouncing against the wall and back at him.

Fernando didn’t answer, but by the sound of it, he was still in a bad mood. He could hear the blonde sighing heavily and dumping his things carelessly on the floor. Daniel leaned his forehead against the cool surface of the wall. This wasn’t what he meant to happen. 

“Done,” Fernando said.

Daniel spun around and saw the other boy, dwarfed by the huge robe. The hem hung low on his knees and the sleeves began about three inches past his shoulders. It made Daniel smile.

Fernando tried to scowl but one corner of his mouth twitched. “Shut up.”

Dan immediately pursed his lips. He ushered Fernando to the set. “I’m glad you agreed to come here today.”

Fernando fidgeted with the belt on his robe. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I know.”

There was a tinge of melancholy in the air, and Fernando didn’t like it one bit.

Daniel fired up his camera. “I know this shoot sounds scary, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. Just tell me if you don’t like something and we’ll stop it.”

The nerves were beginning to set in but Daniel’s take-charge attitude gave him a sense of calm.

“Besides, personally, I don’t want the pictures to come out as overt or sensual. I just want them to look natural, like you’ve just undressed after a football game or finished a long shower.”

Fernando nodded and took a deep breath.

“While we wait for your skin to rest, we can start with the easy shots,” Daniel said as he circled Fernando.

Fernando didn’t know if that was supposed to be a good thing for him. “Like?”

“Hands?”

Daniel reached out for Fernando’s hands. The blonde instinctively shrank back. Daniel frowned, but he reached for them again and Fernando let him take them this time.

“Sorry,” Fernando laughed nervously.

“It’s fine,” Daniel said, but he couldn’t hide that he was hurt. They got along so well before, and it felt like they were a long way away from that now.

Fernando wrung his hands and Daniel began shooting them up close: the roughness of his knuckles, the curl of his fingers, his bitten nails. He knew Fernando was tense, but he didn’t let it make him self-conscious. He just continued playing with his hands, and when he idly scratched at a spot on his wrist, Daniel followed him with his camera. Wherever he touched – he tugged at his hair, tucked it behind his ears, stroked at his nape – Daniel followed.

There was something comforting about the continuous sound of the shutter clicking. The pictures came one after the other.

“These will look great,” Daniel said, straightening up for a bit. “The pictures will be in black and white and your freckles will give them a nice texture.”

“I hope so. What’s next?”

Daniel pursed his lips. “If you’re ready, can you lower your robe a little? I just need neck, shoulders, collarbone.”

Fernando swallowed with difficulty, “Okay.” He loosened the knot on the robe but he didn’t undo it. He eased his shoulders and arms out of the sleeves.

The strain was visible in Fernando’s muscles. Daniel talked to him to try to get him to relax. “Is it strange that these are the things I find attractive in a guy? I know most people would choose the eyes, the smile, abs, biceps.”

Fernando laughed. “It’s fine. I have a thing for shoulder blades, I don’t know why. I like it when a guy wears a thin shirt and you can see the muscles moving underneath.”

Daniel laughed too, but inside he wondered if he’s ever worn a threadbare shirt and if his shoulder blades looked good in them. “I like wrists and ankles.”

“Calves.”

Daniel remembered the way Fernando’s legs looked when he took pictures of him playing football. “Thighs.”

The Spaniard’s body began to loosen up, so Daniel resumed his work. He photographed the soft slope of Fernando’s shoulders, the sharpness of his clavicle. Then he moved up to the shell of Fernando’s ear where his hair was tangled and the bow of his upper lip, his eyelashes as they cast shadows on his cheekbones.

Daniel stopped to catch his breath. He was feeling light-headed all of a sudden – maybe the lamps had gotten too hot. He excused himself to dim the lights.

Fernando watched him closely. “Are you okay?”

Daniel just grunted. He’s shot his fair share of models – most of them, objectively, more good-looking than Fernando. Which is why he didn’t understand why he was so taken with this one.

“We’re making good progress,” Daniel said. He took out his shotlist from the pocket of his jeans and smoothed out the paper against his thigh. “Can we do your back next?”

Fernando nodded. He stood up to peel the robe further down his body so it hung on his waist like a towel. Daniel politely averted his gaze and pretended to go through his pictures.

“You can sit back down again. I just need you to hunch forward,” Daniel instructed. Fernando did as he was told. As his body curled, his spine rose in high relief in his skin. Daniel began taking pictures.

It was unnerving, not being able to see what was happening. All Fernando could hear was the soft clicks of the camera as Daniel shot behind him.

Sometimes, the Dane would touch him to fix his pose: nudge one shoulder back, fold the arm at an angle. Fernando could handle it, no problem. Until Daniel decided to brush away his hair to expose more of his nape. Fernando bit his tongue to keep from making a sound as the cold touch ghosted over him. He was sure Daniel saw the goosebumps break out on his skin.

He looked back just as Daniel glanced up from his camera. There was something so tempting about the look of intense concentration in Daniel’s eyes. Like all he thought of and all he cared about and all he was devoted to was Fernando. When Daniel was like this, was it so misguided of Fernando to think that he was the only one in his life?

Daniel rested one palm on the Spaniard’s thigh so he could twist his body. With his free hand, Daniel balanced the camera and took photos of Fernando’s side, focusing on the lines made by his ribcage and pelvic bone. He traced the lines after with his fingers, just because he could, and Fernando squirmed underneath him.

“Just one or two last shots,” Daniel said. There was a question in his eyes. He held Fernando’s robe, which was pooled around his waist.

Fernando, though, his face didn’t lie. The desire was written all over his expression, and Daniel read it so easily.

Tentatively, the Dane inched the robe down until it sat even lower on Fernando’s hips. The boy’s deep breath was audible in the quiet studio.

Daniel lowered his camera for a second. He wanted to see this before his lens captured it: the freckles dusted across Fernando’s back, the sinewy muscles, the outline of his tailbone and the rise of his butt.

One _click_ and the picture was taken.

“Done.”

But it didn’t feel finished.

Daniel put his camera down on the floor and approached Fernando. There was something amiss, something that hung in the air, like a word that needed to be said or a choice that had to be made. Fernando gazed up at him expectantly.

The Dane just stood there, though, and the wait was agonising. Fernando pushed both doubt and rational thought from his mind and acted for both of them.

The chair scraped loudly against the floor as he rose abruptly to meet Daniel face-to-face. The robe was already loose around his body, and with one step toward the other boy, it unravelled and fell in one heavy _whoosh_. No one noticed, though. No one even batted an eyelash.

Fernando stood on tiptoes, wrapped his arms around Daniel’s neck and kissed him deeply. He had wanted do it to throughout the shoot and all those weeks they were apart and maybe even long before that.

It wasn’t three seconds into the kiss, though, that Fernando became keenly aware of the way Daniel kept his arms at his sides and his stance rigid, even his lips still. He was completely unresponsive.

The realisation hit Fernando like he was doused with a bucket of cold water. The chill went straight to the bone. He broke away from Daniel.

“Fermando…” Daniel looked so sorry for the Spaniard, but Fernando couldn’t and wouldn’t accept his pity. Daniel made to reach out to him but he took a step back. He bent down and grabbed his forgotten robe.

“Steve and I…” He couldn’t even say it, but Fernando understood. He wrapped the robe around himself, unable to look Daniel in the eye. He couldn’t believe he was nude. He couldn’t believe he was so stupid.

Steve and Daniel hadn’t broken up. He should have asked – those were Pepe’s first and only instructions – but instead he ignored the question and assumed the best answer – something he told himself he would never do.

“Fernando, I really like you.”

He couldn’t stifle the humourless scoff. Daniel really liked him, but so what? So fucking what? He was right there, in front of him, ready and willing, but he was turned away because clearly, Daniel didn’t like him enough – not as much as he liked Steve.

Fernando didn’t bother asking Daniel to turn around or look away as he threw on his clothes. “Did you get all the shots you needed?” He asked, cold and professional, as he jammed his feet into his sneakers.

Daniel nodded. His expression was conflicted, like he wanted to hold Fernando back and let him go at the same time. But Fernando didn’t have any more patience for indecision and hesitance.

“Goodbye,” Fernando said. He would have rushed out the studio, but he wanted to remember this: the turning point, the last straw. It wouldn’t be easy leaving and staying away from Daniel, but at least now he was absolutely certain he was making the right choice.

*

In a way, it didn’t surprise Fernando that Daniel was waiting for him outside his class that next Tuesday.

Fernando didn’t waste any more time trying to reason with Daniel. He headed straight to the parking lot where he knew Matilda was parked. The sooner he got into the car, the sooner he was brought to class, the sooner this was over.

When he popped open the car door, though, there was something on the passenger seat. A large bouquet of flowers. A small gasp of surprise escaped his lips.

Daniel peered at Fernando from the other side of the car, scared out of his mind. He didn’t know if he was doing this right. He’s never given anyone flowers before, and he didn’t know what to say, so he just left it there where he knew Fernando would see it.

Fernando regained his composure as quickly as he lost it. His face was calm when he looked up at Daniel, his voice perfectly measured. “Whose is this?”

Daniel’s jaw dropped. “Oh, it’s… it’s yours, of course.”

Fernando turned the bouquet around in the seat but he didn’t pick it up. “I was just making sure. I know I’m not the only one who sits here.”

 _Touché._ Daniel looked down at his scuffed boots. “I’m sorry.”

Fernando moved the flowers aside so he would have room to get in the car. Daniel followed suit. The bouquet sat between them, squashed beside their bags and the gearstick.

Fernando stared at the flowers for a while, sat on his hands so he wouldn’t reach out to touch them. “You’re sorry for?”

Daniel kept his eyes glued on the road ahead. He didn’t know if Fernando was playing dumb or just waiting for Daniel to say the words himself. Either way, Daniel was painted to a corner since he didn’t have an answer – at least not one he had the guts to say out loud.

“I’m sorry about how awkwardly we ended the last shoot.”

Fernando shot that down quickly. “I’ve never heard of flowers being given for that reason before.”

Daniel drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He was so out of his depth. He’s never had anyone but Steve in the last three years, and he’s never wanted anyone apart from his boyfriend all that time. How could he explain himself to Fernando when he couldn’t set things straight with himself to begin with?

“I should have told you about Steve. And I shouldn’t have kissed you. I know I was wrong. I wish I could say that I regretted everything I did, but I don’t.”

Fernando crossed his arms tightly over his chest to hug himself. There, Daniel had said it. Did it make him feel better? Not at all.

“So, there. I guess that’s what the flowers are for.”

They entered the driveway of the School of Social Sciences. Fernando immediately felt a pang of sadness because for most of the semester, he had gone to this class with Daniel, and he always looked forward to their ten-minute drives and then some. He had gotten so used to their routine.

Daniel slowed the car to buy himself more time, just a little more time.

“My portraiture class is going to hold an exhibit next week, in case you want to go.” The invitation tapered off into an embarrassed, unsure question. “My photos will mostly – all – be of you anyway. The last shoot turned out so well too.”

A lump rose in Fernando’s throat. He gulped down deep breaths to steady himself. “You can’t tell me it’s the end but give me flowers or invite me to exhibits. There is no reprise, Daniel.”

“But…” Daniel hated the wobble in his voice.

Fernando gave everything one last look. The neat piles of film and photos in the backseat, the careful placement of camera bags on the floor, the view of the driveway through the windshield of the car. And finally, Daniel – his slump over the steering wheel, his grip on the gearstick, his foot on the brakes. He wished he had pictures to remember this by.

Daniel looked crestfallen. Fernando wondered if he looked as broken. He definitely felt like it.

Fernando gathered his things. He was late.

“Don’t leave like this,” Daniel pleaded.

Fernando clung to his backpack like a safety device. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Fernando, please.”

But the Spaniard turned away and pushed the door open. Slipping out of the car felt like emerging from water – the fresh air, the sun invigorated him, but dizzyingly so.

The slam of the card door was deafening to Daniel. He watched Fernando helplessly as he walked up the steps and disappeared into the building without a glance back.

It wasn’t until he restarted the car that he realised Fernando left his flowers behind.

*

The hallmark of a good doctor was his ability to trust his instincts. In high-pressure situations that were quite literally a matter of life and death, you had to follow your gut. Most medical cases involved too many superfluous factors and often, it was your initial diagnosis – the simplest one – that was correct.

Steve’s instincts told him that there was something between Daniel and Fernando. He didn’t know if it was just an attraction, a relationship or an affair, but there was something.

Against his better judgment, though, he killed off that inkling. He didn’t want to believe it, and Daniel said it wasn’t true. Besides, he had no way to prove Daniel had cheated on him, so he just took his word for it. That’s what relationships were built on, right? Trust?

Besides, Daniel has changed. He told Steve he was going to work with Fernando for his last shoot. He told him what studio they’d be in and what time they’d be there. (Steve resisted the urge to drop by for a surprise visit.) He even texted him promptly that the shoot was done and, even better, that it finished sooner than expected.

Steve, admittedly, felt relieved. Like his decision to go against his instincts and grant Daniel a second chance was validated.

However, when he met up with Daniel that day for their usual movie date, he could sense something was wrong. Daniel was withdrawn, his face ashen.

“Are you okay?” He asked him over dinner. Daniel just nodded and slurped at his soup, his steak untouched.

He asked him again as they were lining up at the cinemas, but the younger boy just forced a weak smile; he didn’t even argue when Steve wanted to watch the mindless comedy over the indie crime flick.

Throughout the movie, Daniel was quiet. He didn’t roll his eyes at the bad jokes or chuckle at the few good ones. Steve turned to check on him every ten minutes, but the Dane didn’t even notice.

He didn’t seem guilty – he’s seen that face before, back when he caught him in the car with Fernando. He just seemed… unhappy. And Steve never thought Daniel would be unhappy in their relationship before.

There was that churning in his gut again. That nauseous feeling that came with the realisation that you were completely and utterly wrong about something, like a bad call on a medical case or a mistake on a patient. He swallowed down the acid rising in his throat and took long, deep breaths.

Daniel glanced at him for the first time during the movie. “Are you okay?”

Steve didn’t answer, but he took Daniel’s hand into his own and held it tightly.


	3. A state of grace

“Congratulations.”

Daniel took a couple of seconds to look up from his work. “Oh, Martin. Hey.”

Martin studied his classmate closely. “Are you okay? Shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

Daniel smiled weakly. He had topped Fergie’s class and by tradition, that meant he got the most space in the exhibit. “Sorry, I don’t feel well.”

Martin clapped him on the back. “It’s just the pre-exhibit jitters. Once the first few visitors arrive, you’ll feel much better.”

“Thanks. Are you done setting up?”

“I only get to show five photos. It’s not like there’s much to set up. I just took all my pictures with the highest grades and put them on display,” Martin laughed.

Daniel, on the other hand, got to show nine pictures. The second-placed student had seven, while everyone else had five. Martin inspected the photos scattered on the table. “Do you have a selection yet?”

Daniel sighed. That was what he was pondering all morning. “These,” he pointed to a line of photos he had set aside. “I have some favourite shoots, and I think I took too many from those. Maybe I should show more range and represent the different assignments?”

Martin shrugged. Daniel really shouldn’t be asking him for advice since he barely survived the portraiture class. One thing caught his eye, though – a photo that stuck out like a sore thumb. He tapped the picture, “What is this?”

Daniel’s face turned red and clearly, he knew what Martin was asking exactly. “Oh. I thought I would try out a different subject for one of the assignments.”

“Oh. Who is he?”

“That’s Steve, my boyfriend.”

“What?!” Martin exclaimed. He gestured wildly at the plethora of pictures of Fernando in different colours and poses and states of undress. “I thought he was your boyfriend!”

Daniel sighed again and shrugged.

“Who is this then?” Martin asked, picking up one photo of Fernando’s bare torso and waving it around.

“Fernando, the boy my boyfriend is jealous of.”

Martin snickered. “He should be.”

“Shut up.”

Martin returned the photos to their line-up. “Why are you including Steve’s picture? It’s not very good, is it?”

A crick was forming in Daniel’s neck. “I know, but won’t it be strange that all my photos are of one person?”

“Well, one token photo of another person out of a total of nine is barely going to make a difference. You might as well just own up to it.” Martin flicked Steve’s portrait out of the selection unkindly. Daniel didn’t stop him.

Martin eventually left to bug other students, and Daniel almost wished he wouldn’t go. He’d been putting off this decision ever since Fergie told him he would get nine photos in the exhibit. Nine photos suddenly seemed like a burden, not a reward.

He stared at his work again. He took a deep breath to clear his mind and then let his hands move idly to rearrange the pictures. He found that without Steve’s portrait in the set, it was much easier to select a line-up. Steve’s photo didn’t fit alongside the others. Its look, feel and story were all wrong.

After the long, long delay, the final decision was executed swiftly. The nine was composed of two close-ups of Fernando’s face, four black-and-whites from the body shoot, two candids from their trip to the pier and one from the first time he met Fernando in the parking lot.

Daniel was pretty happy with his choices. They looked even better framed and posted on the wall. He had always loved those photos, but on display, he felt the pride swell up inside him.

The exhibit opened an hour later. Visitors were few and far between at the start as classes just dismissed so Martin ambled over again.

“Can I?”

“Please.”

Martin walked by Daniel’s wall and studied each picture thoroughly. Sometimes, he would stand back three paces; other times, he would peer up close until he could see the grains.

“These are great, you know.”

“Thank you.” It wasn’t always easy for photographers to praise their colleagues.

“I like the black and white pictures the best.”

“Me too.”

“And I like the progression. It’s like the slow, torturous way you begin to want someone.”

Daniel’s face reddened and he couldn’t respond.

Martin turned away from the exhibit and faced Daniel. He was one of the few people who dwarfed the Dane – he was taller and bulkier and moodier. It was intimidating

“So, why aren’t you two together?”

“Hmm?”

Martin gestured from the first photo to the last. “Pictures don’t lie, you know.”

“I have a boyfriend, I told you.”

“Why didn’t you break up with him?”

This conversation was beginning to drain Daniel. He leaned against the wall tiredly. “We’ve been together for three years, and we’re going strong. He’s the one.”

Martin rubbed his chin. “And Fernando?”

The Dane huffed noncommittally, but Martin wasn’t buying that reaction. “I liked him, and I told him that. But, it’s best that we stay friends.”

Martin nodded slowly as he tried to process everything. “How do you decide that, though? Who to keep and who to give up?”

It could have been an honest question, but it felt like an accusation to Daniel. He began to get defensive.

“I don’t know, there is no checklist or line-by-line comparison. The choirs of angels and saints don’t exactly burst into song when you find ‘The One,’” he said sarcastically. “Maybe it’s a wild guess or maybe it’s a calculated decision, but I’ve chosen Steve.”

Martin held up his hands, “Okay, okay, relax. Jesus, I was just asking.”

“Well, are there any other questions? I have to get back to my exhibit,” Daniel snapped. He was just about to shoo Martin away from his wall when he heard someone call his name.

Daniel’s blood ran cold – Steve. He was here and he was going to see all of Fernando’s pictures for the first time. This was the moment of truth.

When he turned around, though, it wasn’t his boyfriend, but one of his classmates calling his attention. A wave of relief washed over him, until his classmate said, “Agger, your muse is here.” And then it was like he crumbled all over again.

Daniel spun, searching for Fernando frantically. He didn’t want this to be a cruel joke or a false alarm or a dashed hope.

“Over there,” his classmate said, and of course he knew what Fernando would have looked like.

Daniel saw Fernando as he emerged from one of the displays. The people seemed to part as he cut through the crowd. The light seemed to catch in his hair, diffusing a glow about him, while everything else seemed to dim and fall into slow-motion.

It felt a lot like that sweet spot when you hit your shutter button just right and you know you captured the exact moment you had in your mind before you even looked at the film.

Daniel stood in a daze, and when Fernando came up to him, all of his faculties shut down. Fernando was speaking to him, but it felt like he was underwater and the words were garbled to his ears.

Martin had to jump in, “Sorry, Daniel has a bad case of stage fright. It’s our first exhibit.” He dug his elbow sharply into Daniel’s ribs. “Hold on, we’ll just get you an exhibit programme, and Daniel can walk you through the photos.”

He dragged his friend to a nearby cocktail table to regroup. 

“Fuck, fuck, holy fuck,” Daniel wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I didn’t know he was going to attend!”

“Calm the fuck down,” Martin ordered. He took a programme and put it in his classmate’s hands. “Just go back there and act like a normal person.”

Daniel nodded and took a deep breath. He began to rehearse his spiel in his head.

“Before you go,” Martin clapped his hand on Daniel’s shoulder.

“Yeah?”

He smirked. “Why do you look like you’ve just heard the choirs of angels and saints?”

Daniel’s eyes widened and he hit Martin on the face with the programme. It suffered a huge dent, and he had to get a new copy. “Fuck off!”

Martin went back to his post, cackling away, while Daniel returned to Fernando. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Daniel felt like a teenager, shuffling his feet and blushing. “I’m glad you decided to come.”

Fernando offered a smile, but it was measured and polite. He stood a safe distance away from the Dane, and he wouldn’t hold his gaze for far too long. “I wanted to see the pictures.”

Daniel didn’t know if that was a jibe, a clarification that Fernando was there for the exhibit and not the photographer. He swallowed down his disappointment. “Here’s the programme. It has some information on the class, the works and the museum in case you want to go around later.”

“Sure,” Fernando said, taking the booklet. He made sure to hold just one end so their hands wouldn’t touch.

They began to go through the pictures one by one, Fernando leading the way and Daniel shadowing him. The Dane mostly just observed Fernando, how he studied each image, how he reacted. Once in a while, he would explain a few things.

“This is a beautiful picture just because of the quality of the light. The technique is so-so, the framing isn’t perfect, even the focus is a bit off. But this was late in the afternoon, and the sunset diffused the light just right, that’s why it still looks great,” Daniel said. They were in the pier and Fernando was lying down on the hood of Daniel’s car.

Fernando never responded, never turned to the photographer. It was clear he was keeping his physical and emotional distance, but he still listened, and Daniel appreciated that. His eyebrows knitted together as he tried to spot the issues Daniel identified, nodded with every sentence he said.

They moved to the centrepiece pictures, the ones from the body shoot. Fernando visibly tensed. Daniel saw the muscles on his back and neck clench. He’s become so familiar with that body that he knew its movements.

“I think these pictures are the favourites so far,” Daniel said quietly.

Fernando frowned and shrugged, moved away quickly. Daniel tried to explain, apologise again, but they were beyond repair. If Fernando could overlook Steve, or if Daniel could end his relationship, they would have been together long ago. But, they couldn’t and those differences were irreconcilable.

They came to the end of the exhibit: the first photo in the parking lot. Fernando actually smiled at that one. Happier times, for sure.

“Why were you there that day anyway? You don’t have Humanities classes.”

Daniel laughed although it wavered with an undercurrent of sadness, nostalgia. “I had a free morning, and I wanted to take practise shots of people. I was driving around campus – I remember because I’m not usually at school so early in the day – and most students were still in class so the streets and parks were empty. But as I passed by the School of Humanities, classes just let out, and it was the only building in the block where there were people out and about.”

His eyes twinkled as he tried to recall the exact sequence, “I was rushing because I didn’t want the crowds to thin out. I think I missed the turn to the parking lot, and that was why I ended up on the driveway.”

“Just as I was crossing.”

“Crossing without looking.”

“Crossing without looking, fine, but you were speeding.”

“Okay, conceded.”

Fernando chuckled.

“And that was that. I almost ran you over. It wasn’t until you left – angry and cursing, I remember – and I was in the parking lot surrounded by all these uninspiring faces, taking bad photos, that I realised I just let the perfect subject go.”

Fernando blinked and looked away. The atmosphere around them thickened and clouded over.

Daniel shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at their very first photo. “That’s why I went back at the same time, same day the next week. I didn’t think I’d find you, but… Fate, I guess.”

Fernando snickered bitterly at the word.

“Fernando, I…” And Daniel was using that voice he used when he needed to say something important. Fernando couldn’t do this anymore. He really shouldn’t.

Daniel’s gazed far away as he tried to think of the right words to say. After some time, though, Fernando noticed that his eyes had locked onto something in particular. He turned around and followed the Dane’s gaze.

It was Steve. He had just entered the museum.

Fernando’s heart clenched tightly. “Fate, eh?” He joked, but it wasn’t very funny to either of them.

Daniel looked pained. “I wish I could make this better.”

Fernando shook his head. He took a deep breath – filled in his chest with so much air until he could burst – and exhaled slowly. “It’s okay. It was good while it lasted.”

Daniel watched Fernando take one last look at the photos and at him. He’s seen that last look before, in the car, the last time they were together. It was sad to see the first time; he didn’t want to witness it again.

“I should go ahead.”

Daniel knew Steve had already seen them together, but he didn’t want Fernando to leave becase this time, he knew, it would be final.

“Will I see you around?” He sounded so desperate.

Fernando shrugged. It was the end of the semester and Daniel knew his classes and his schedule would change next term. Finding one person in a campus of thousands would be impossible, and by the looks of it, Fernando wouldn’t voluntarily show himself to Daniel either.

Steve walked up to them, his smile tight and tense. He didn’t miss how the two had to tear their gazes away from each other. “Hi, everyone.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss against Daniel’s hair before Fernando could look away.

Daniel bristled because Steve was doing this on purpose, but it was well within his rights.

Fernando nodded politely at Steve, “I was just leaving.”

“Okay. Goodbye,” Steve answered with no hesitation.

Fernando glanced back at Daniel. He stared back shamelessly, Steve forgotten momentarily. He could deal with the fallout later.

“Congratulations on the exhibit,” Fernando said.

Daniel cleared his throat to keep his voice steady. “Thank you.”

He hated that it was Fernando that had to turn away and leave like a dog with his tail between his legs, the loser and the surrendered. He wished he could at least bring him to the exit personally, apologise again, say goodbye properly.

But Steve’s arm was tight around his shoulders, both a warning and a reminder, and he knew his place was right there beside him.


End file.
